


The Golden Name On My Wrist

by Sapphicsarah



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Internalized Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-08-28 21:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8463793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphicsarah/pseuds/Sapphicsarah
Summary: Names appear on children, symbols of the other half of one's soul. A soulmate, if you will. Bernie's name is written in gold.





	1. Bernie

Bernie had always heard the stories. That the Gods of old had feared the power of Man, and so they split them in two. Man who was once a creature of four arms, four legs, two heads, and two hearts was rendered into pieces. The souls of humanity were divided, doomed to walk the earth alone, ever searching for the other half. Of course, they were only stories, myths and fairytales to tell children in the dark. The truth was that no one knew how or why the names of soulmates appeared on anyone’s wrists. Sometimes in other languages, sometimes in such ridiculously scrawled handwriting that it takes years and a first meeting to decipher. An age of science cannot explain the writing, nor can faith and myths. It simply is and always has been.

Bernie’s parents do not have matching names. She is told in a matter- of-fact manner over tea one day when she is five. It was raining. She vividly remembers the pitter patter of the raindrops on the windows, as the enchantment of the soulmate myth faded a bit in her heart. Not everyone gets to meet their soulmate.

One morning in the school yard, her friend Lily tells her secretively that some people do not even have a name on their wrist. That there are some who were born out of time with their partner, and live as half-souls, wandering through eternity. Bernie shudders at the thought, and earnestly watches her wrist and waits.

One by one, her friends’ names come in. It happens at parties, in school, and once during an exam. Scrawling names in blues and greens and purples appear on once-blank wrists. The hushed excitement fills the air, and the girls gather to show each other before they cover them with bangles, cuffs, or bracelets of pearls. For these names are sacred, and modesty and British Reserve call for the names to be kept private until their soulmate is found.

But modesty is thrown out at group sleepovers, as the girls eagerly compare names and signatures. They look up how to determine personality based on the way Richard wrote his “R’s” on Katherine’s wrist when she was twelve, or what the Hebrew name on Sarah’s wrist signifies, the name appearing when she was fourteen. Subsequently, Sarah discovers her own name means “Princess” and the group dissolves into giggles, as they proclaim her their leader and fashion crowns out of paper from a magazine. When it is Bernie’s turn to show her wrist, she looks down and mumbles that it has not come in yet, and shows her bare wrist. The looks of sympathy go right though her, and she feels silly and suddenly out of place. Each girl has a taste of her future, or at least a glimpse. Bernie just feels alone.

She is sixteen when her friend Jon gets his soulmate’s name. They are sitting in a café studying for a maths exam and he goes still. She looks up and sees him gripping his wrist as a look of sadness covers his face. He leaves in a hurry and does not stop when she calls after him. She later learns the name scribbled across his veins is Stanley. She is not allowed to be friends with him anymore even though he still sits next to her in maths. Her father now hates Jon and Bernie does not understand it, but she follows orders. They do not study together again.

Then, after years of waiting and disappointing slumber parties, Bernie gets her own name. She is seventeen. One evening, as she reads alone in the sitting room with her cat on her lap, she feels a strange tingling sensation. She looks down and sees golden handwriting suddenly adorning her left wrist. Sitting up quickly and startling the cat out of the armchair, she tears her sleeve up to her elbow to see the name of her soulmate. And just like in the fairytales, she feels too overwhelmed to read the whole name, deciding to take in each letter first. Her right index finger traces the most elegant “S” she has ever seen. The sweeping nature of the thing seems almost like a dance, and Bernie feels in love almost instantly. Taking her time, she traces each letter until she reaches the end. It takes her a moment to put each glorious letter together. S-E-R-E-N-A.  

The dread pierces through her like a knife, and her heart runs cold. A girl’s name? Her soulmate is a girl?

Looking down at her brother’s toy soldiers lined up on the floor of the sitting room, she feels the terror settle in. She looks up at the portraits of her ancestors, each generation with medals on their chest. She knows she was destined for the army ever since she was a child. This was never part of the plan, a girl’s name on her body. The name threatens all of it. The precious golden hue that Bernie already adores represents otherness. _It cannot stand_ , Bernie rapidly thinks. It would bend and break in the face of the uniformity so celebrated by her family. The uniform, the duty, the tradition. Bernie almost drowns as the crushing weight of it settles on her shoulders, and she clutches her wrist and cries.

That night, as lightning and thunder fill the sky, she sneaks out the back door and heads into the bowels of London. She has heard whispers of tattoo parlors in darkened alleyways, tucked away from the highstreets. The winding cobblestones draw her deeper until she stumbles upon a shop still open. A neon pink sign declaring “Tattoos Inside!” The steady rain has soaked through her coat, and she must look a fright.

The bell rings softly as she hesitantly opens the door. Silver stars cover the walls, and the lamp that lights the shop is shaped like a full moon. The wind from the street meanders in with Bernie, and the candles scattered throughout the various shelves and stations flicker, but do not extinguish.

“Hello,” Bernie quietly calls out, after no one comes to greet her. She wonders if it is closed after all, and after a moment moves to leave.

“Hello my dear,” an old voice croaks. An old woman appears behind a curtain Bernie had not noticed before. She is strangely wearing an evening gown, made of navy blue fabric that swishes as she approaches the front of the shop.  Large, perfectly round glasses cover nearly half her face, and make her eyes appear huge and her short grey hair sticks out wildly in all directions. But her face is kind and when she asks “What can I do for you my child?” Bernie does not hesitate and simply shows her Serena’s name.

“Ah” the old woman says, and she gives Bernie a warm smile without pity and promptly turns around and disappears once more behind the curtain.

Bernie remains and looks around the shop, feeling less frightened than she thought she would be. After a minute, the woman reappears with a pot of tea and two mugs and settles down at the station toward the back. The candlelight glows and Bernie joins her, sitting on the stool as she rolls up her sleeve. With a gentle hand to her arm, the woman stops her and murmurs “Not just yet, my dear. Have a cuppa. And then I’ll do it.”

Bernie nods, and slowly lowers her arm. Taking the steaming cup of tea, she wraps her hands around it, letting the warmth seep into her. She pushes her wet hair behind her ear and softly blows into the mug. The concoction is bitter but soothing and Bernie feels stronger for it. She looks once more around the shop, and sees maps of far off stars, and paintings of ships besieged by mermaids. One painting is of two women kissing and Bernie feels herself flush and retreats into herself. She never thought that this would be her path. She looks up and sees the woman watching her curiously.

“Did it come in tonight?” she asks. Bernie nods.

“Thought so.” The woman murmurs.  After a moment she adds, “You know, I see one of you almost every night. Sometimes more.”

Bernie looks into her tea, and sees her reflection looking back. Silence fills the air, and lightning flashes and the synthetic moonlight flickers. How strange it is to sit in the darkness and feel connected to countless other souls with the same story as her. She wonders how many sat in this very stool and she feels terribly sad.

“You are not alone.”

Bernie looks up at this and sees the woman roll up the deep blue sleeve of the gown to bare her own wrist. The rosy pink cursive is faded with wrinkles and time, but the name still reads Jillian. Bernie looks into the too-big eyes of the woman and finds great wisdom there.

Bernie whispers “Did you ever find her?”

The woman smiles. “She’s upstairs sleeping.”

Bernie tears her eyes away, and pulls out her own wrist. She traces the name for the last time.

“I have no choice.”

“I know.”

“Better to be known as a nameless one, a half soul.” Bernie feels her voice shake as she begins to cry. “I cannot carry her with me. They won’t let me.”

“I know,” the woman repeats gently. She takes Bernie’s hand and covers the golden letters with ink that matches the tone of her skin. The name disappears slowly but surely and Bernie runs all the way home through the storm. The pain in her chest matches the throbbing pain of her wrist, and it is all she feels for a long, long time.

 

 

 

 

When she turns eighteen Bernie’s father is actually quite pleased that she has no name on her wrist. He never put too much stock in fairytales and says he is glad his daughter is free from the shackles of myths and childish fantasy. Bernie rubs her wrist and smiles a smile that does not meet her eyes.  

She goes to university and meets Marcus. He is kind and sad and she likes him. He had already met his soulmate. She had lived in the village next to his when they were children, much to their respective parents’ joy. Her name was Rachel, and she had been perfect. She had been sweet and pretty, and only wanted to marry Marcus and have a life with him. They pretended to get married often when they were little. The ceremonies were a common occurrence in the garden behind Marcus’ home and he still had a small album of photographs of the two of them as bride and groom. But they never did get married. She died in a car crash when Marcus was eleven and he grieved for a long time.

The grief was still there at university, as was her name on his wrist, but he was kind and he made Bernie laugh and she thought perhaps she could love him. She never reveals too much of herself, and allows him to think he knows her every thought. She has children with him, and they are beautiful, but she still feels like a fraud. She runs away to the desert and lives a half-life, torn between her family, her duty, and the phantom woman she loves. She feels unworthy of Marcus; for he believed her to be a nameless one and he married her anyway.

The thought of a nameless one can be startling to some. There are so few of them that it is almost unsettling to meet one. It is not the first thing people notice when they meet Bernie, but it is often the thing they remember. They believe she is not a whole soul, that something is missing from her. It makes her a good soldier. She fights like she has nothing to lose, but becomes a doctor because she knows she does. The name hidden beneath the ink never feels like a burden and she feels connected to some unknown being out there, this woman whose very name means calmness and peace. In the dusty places where she trudges through misery and broken bones, and blood on her uniform, she can forget for a while that she is a coward. A soldier afraid of a name.

It is in the desert, the most desolate of places that she meets Alex. She is younger than Bernie, and grew up in a time more forgiving than her generation. Alex has a female soulmate and is simply waiting for her to show up. She feels no shame, no urgent need to hide herself, but does so for the sake of the army. Alex loves being a solider, but does not let the rules stop her from kissing Bernie. The urge to kiss women had been strong ever since that night Serena’s name tore her world apart. But Bernie had met many Serena’s, none of whom had Berenice on their wrist, and she had resigned herself to being disciplined in the face of her body’s desires. She gave up her soulmate for the sake of convention, gave up cigarettes for the sake of her marriage, but cannot seem to give up kissing Alex. For two years she feels more herself than she ever was and lets happiness creep in.

And then she gets blown up.  


	2. Serena

Serena was a flirt. That was known far and wide before she ever got a soul mate name at seventeen. So, when the chicken scratch of sharp lines and a dash instead of a dot over the "I" came in she decided to simply continue being a flirt, no matter who this Bernie was. Serena did not like the name at first, didn't think it matched her own elegant name. When she pictured "Bernie" she saw a man with large spectacles and nose hairs. However, she still loved the endearing handwriting and thought fondly that perhaps she would come to love the hypothetical nose hairs. "And he can always get contacts,"she thinks practically. Despite these thoughts she still falls asleep at night, gazing at the gold letters in the dark. 

One morning, while in the bustling market in Piccadilly, she spies a golden bangle. It shines in the sunlight and glimmers as she slips it around her small wrist. It sits snugly around the name and feels cool against her skin. She buys it with her pocket money and wears it for years, loving how it matches the hidden writing beneath. On the train journey home, she daydreams of their first meeting, wonders what they will say to each other, if she will know without having to remove the bangle. She does this often, writing her own love story as she rides home or drifts off to sleep, until her stories become her dreams. 

But Bernie never comes. Serena finishes secondary school, moves on to university and does not find him. She earnestly goes to films with her friends and gravitates towards stories of soul mates long lost. Knowing she is still young, she reminds herself she has the rest of her life to be settled. She reminds herself again and again until she goes to America. 

She attends Harvard and is surprised at the cavalier and entirely American attitude towards soul mates. Some live with the names exposed, despite not having found their other half yet. Others simply dismiss the names as ridiculous superstition and partner and marry whomever they choose. She leaves Harvard a savvy businesswoman and returns to England with a husband. Decorum be damned. She wanted a family and Edward was willing to give it to her. Somewhere in her time away from her homeland she realized with a start that she may never meet Bernie. The prospect frightened her. So she decided to live her life and not put it on hold for someone who may never show up. 

Edward does not have Serena's name on his skin. In fact, he has no one's name. He is a nameless one. But he was there and Bernie was not and Serena decides to make lemonade, as it were. Sometimes she whispers Bernie's name in the dawn as she stands exhausted in her kitchen and prepares to head into work. She casually looks at patients' names and wonders. She never meets a Bernard, or Bernardo, or Bernie with her name. And one day she simply stops looking. Edward starts drinking and it becomes clear that their marriage vows mean little to him. He sleeps with other women, tells them he is unmarried. How can he be, with no wife's name on his wrist? Edward chips away at her, makes her feel undesireable, destroys the things she loves. 

So Serena leaves him. She closes her heart and declares herself her own soulmate. She will be complete all by herself, thank you very much. Serena Campbell, doctor extraordinaire. Eleanor goes to university and her mother becomes ill and turns vicious. Her mother forgets most things, including the name on her wrist and dies a ghost of her former self. Serena cries then, and wishes not for the first time that Bernie was there to hold her, to carry her through the pain.

She keeps on living, Jason appears, and life becomes more interesting. She turns fifty and feels wrinkles settle about her eyes and her bones begin to creak when it rains. She chases away any thoughts that Bernie will not like what he sees. If he does not like her he will not be worthy, she reasons. Serena nods to herself and for the first time in years daydreams of meeting Bernie. The scenarios have changed as she has aged but they still set her heart aflutter, and she feels warm and hopeful. She still is a fantastic flirt after all.

One evening, after a horrible shift, she sits in Albie's with a bottle of Shiraz as her only companion and thinks that she is lonely. Not for lack of romance, but for lack of friendship. She needs more friends. Raf is lovely and Fletch is hilarious, but they are her subordinates and decidedly male. She needs a friend who is her equal, someone she can rely on. 

The next day she meets Berenice Griselda Wolfe. 

Their meeting is quick and in the car park of all places and Berenice bizarrely flinches as Serena introduces herself, but then she smiles and quickly looks down at the cigarette between her fingers. It takes Serena a couple of days to realize she goes by Bernie and not Berenice. She chuckles at the irony and thinks perhaps this woman can be her friend. They work marvelously together despite their differences. The divorce brings them together, and they bond over coffee and talk of failed relationships, their children, and being a woman in the boy's club of medicine. Serena feels less alone than she has in a long time, even though for some reason Bernie keeps her distance. They are friendly, but Serena cannot help the feeling that Bernie holds back and does not reciprocate Serena's openness. 

One day, as they prepare for theatre, Serena glances down and spots Bernie's wrist. Before she can avert her rude gaze she notices that the wrist is strikingly bare. Of course she had wondered, since it was rare for soul mates to divorce, but the thought had not occurred to Serena that Bernie did not have a soul mate. Bernie looks up and follows her gaze down to her wrist. 

"Ah," she says quietly. "You've finally noticed then." She looks back up and her lips form a smile that Serena does not believe for a second. 

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I shouldn't have looked." She quickly hides her own wrist, remembering the name is momentarily exposed. 

"It's alright Serena. I'm used to it, and it seems everyone in this place knows each other's secrets." 

"Edward was nameless," she blurts out as Bernie moves to leave, desperate to keep her in the conversation. She knows the trauma surgeon likes to bolt when things get awkward. So she talks about Edward during surgery, reveals her "take it to the grave" grudges, and does her very best to make Bernie laugh. They get roaring drunk in Albie's that night and as they stumble out to greet their shared taxi Bernie mumbles "Tell me something." 

"Tell you what?" Serena giggles as she nearly trips on a stone underfoot.  

"You know my secret. Tell me something about your soul mate. Have... have you met him yet?" Bernie stutters and quickly looks away before glancing back at Serena. 

"Tell you what," Serena repeats with a drunk smile, feeling the haze of Shiraz in her veins, "I'll tell you the color." 

Bernie furrows her brow in confusion and shakes her head. Serena thinks she looks deliciously adorable. 

"I've never known anyone to have the same color as me," Serena explains proudly, as her words slur slightly. They are holding each other up and leaning close now, and the fog of their breaths mingle and dissipate in the air together. "My soul mate's name is in gold," she whispers softly into Bernie's ear. 

The drunken joy of the evening comes to a grinding halt as Bernie turns and promptly vomits into the hedge. 

She finds out Bernie cheated on her husband. And with a woman, no less. Her fears of Bernie holding back come true and Serena's memory flashes to Edward and his wandering hands. She hates the army medic for a furious second before she checks herself. Yes, they were both nameless and both were disloyal to their spouses. But they are not the same. Bernie is not the same as Edward. So she draws a veil and Bernie cheats at arm wrestling. Turns out, some deception can be kind. 

When it seems like Bernie's talents are going to waste Serena decides to literally build her a trauma unit. She makes her the co-lead on AAU and they share an office. Jason meets Bernie and they hit it off. Serena laughs more now than she ever has, and realizes one day as Bernie mutters over a drawing of an MRI scanner that she is happy. She meets Cameron and all the emotional baggage he drags with him through the ward doors. Serena feels betrayed once more, but inexplicably finds herself forgiving Bernie. Again. Her words to Bernie echo in her head for days and she finds her thumb mindlessly rubbing underneath her bracelet.  _Thats what love is I suppose: defending the indefensible._

On the day Fletch gets stabbed she and Bernie have a difficult case. A young woman has to lose her leg, the muscles unsalvageable and the outlook grim. Bernie murmurs "She's not much older than our own daughter" and leaves the room for a moment as her mind goes someplace else and she becomes eerily quiet. 

"Don't," Serena softly commands. Her eyes above the mask say "come back to me". Bernie sees and understands and returns. She utters "Saw."

As they work on Fletch, Serena silently thanks god that it was not Bernie who was harmed and instantly hates herself for the thought. On the floor of the deserted theatre, with the excitement over and the stillness settling, Bernie nearly cries. Serena cannot bear the thought of Bernie sad so she calls her fearless and fantastic and Serena is suddenly being kissed. She pulls back momentarily and looks at Bernie and feels as if she properly sees her for the first time. She does not think and desperately pulls her back into her and feels complete. She does not think as they leave theatre after their pagers go off. She does not think as she drives home, nor as she cooks Jason's dinner. She showers mindlessly and crawls into bed weary to the bone. As she reaches over to put the lamp out, the light catches and glints on her wrist. 

Oh. 

 

 

 

She spends the weekend grappling with the notion that Bernie is her soul mate. She dreams the days away and accepts it in the early twilight when the first stars arrive triumphantly. She stays awake all the night long and the sunrise shines on Bernie's name and Serena's skin sparkles.

They next see each other in the lift and Serena cannot look at her and is distracted by the constant screaming in her head. "You're my soul mate, you're my soul mate, for the love of Shiraz, you're my bloody soul mate." She practically runs out the lift despite being on the wrong floor and ends up at Fletch's bedside. She tells his unconscious form that she is breaking her own rule, and with Bernie Wolfe of all people. Her soul mate, she adds silently, the revelation is still hers and hers alone. She experimentally declares "Serena Campbell, lesbian." The word feels foreign and strange on her lips and she shakes her head. All she knows is that she liked the taste of Bernie on her lips. That she loves the taste. Could she love a woman? The possibility had never crossed her mind before and she feels foolish for fabricating the imaginary dalliance in Stepney. 

She googles "lesbian sex" and feels utterly ridiculous but earnestly curious. She also googles "Can my soulmate not have my name. Can they be nameless?" Because Bernie does not have a name. Serena puzzles at this but she knows in her heart that Bernie is hers. She has to be. She just is. She even learns that Berenice means "bearer of victory" How thoroughly fitting for a soldier. It is like their names are two sides of the same coin, and Serena lets her confidence grow. Armed with wine and the butterflies in her stomach, she nervously yanks the office chair closer and waits.

Bernie wants to keep it confined to theatre. Serena accepts and she back peddles and pulls herself away from the edge she was about to leap off of. She wants- no, yearns to tell her, to tear off the bracelet that replaced the beloved bangle years ago, and show her that Bernie's name has been etched onto her heart for decades. That she is done waiting. But Serena's name is nowhere to be found on Bernie's wrist, her perfect, marvelous wrist. So she toasts their undeniable sexual chemistry and they leave it at that. 

They avoid one another for weeks and pass like ships in the night. As they dance around each other, Serena realizes over and over again how much life has changed since Bernie arrived. She lies awake at night in her 600 count thread Egyptian cotton sheets as she traces and retraces the golden letters and mutters to herself facetiously "Well, Eleanor did say it was the year of realizing things." The familiar letters have new meaning now and they feel all the more precious. She is in love with Berenice Griselda Wolfe. 

While scouring the internet she learns about back alley tattoo parlours, famous ones with ink that can match any skin and erase all signs of one's soul mate so that some may hide in plain sight. She cries and cries at this, and knows she will never truly understand that kind of desperation and fear. How awful it must have been and her heart breaks as she reads message boards and blogs, and watches video testimonials. She learns about the parallel and untold history that as times changed some went back and had the ink removed, and they moved proudly through the world. Tattoo stands became popular at Pride and people marched with their true hands in the air and the colors of the rainbow on their skin. 

For some, the name changes in the night. They wake up, and a whole different group of letters is there. The soul mate themselves had not changed, but their gender identity had. Sometimes these soul mates meet before the transition, sometimes after, and sometimes the names have no gender attached to them at all. Soul mates are not always cut and dry Serena realizes. 

She almost tells Bernie at the Italian restaurant with the extensive wine list. All the childhood fairytales and stories come back to Serena and magic seems to crackle in the air whenever the two of them are together. The candlelight matches Bernie's hair and she wants to say that it all matches her wrist, the goldenness surrounds them and she is in love. They found each other, after all these years. Instead she orders by the bottle and drinks and drinks and watches Bernie across the table as the wine blurs her senses and temporarily dulls the throbbing ache in her chest. "I love you," Serena whispers as she watches the taxi carry Bernie away from her door. 

The next morning she wakes with a hangover and is handed a pamphlet for Ukraine. She wants to set it on fire and she kisses Bernie with all her heart. She looks at her before the kiss is even over and she shines when they separate. "I have to tell her," she thinks. Stupid Raf comes in and breaks the moment and Serena walks away with her love on her mouth and a grin so large it hurts. But she does not tell her. Instead she says quickly and in the corridor "I don't want you to go." It's as far as she got. How does one tell another that one is their soulmate? The L Word had not prepared her for this. 

They treat a woman who was married to her soulmate for years. One can always tell when soulmates have found one another. The peace practically radiates off of them and one cannot help but feel joy at the mere sight of them. When Kathy dies Bernie helps to freeze her, so that she may be in stasis until she can meet Pete again in another life. Bernie does it so Serena will feel better and she cannot hold back any longer. "Well, I have fallen in love before. I do recognize the symptoms." 

Bernie is gone by morning. 

 

 

 

Serena staggers about in a daze, hears the whispers and the hurtful rhymes. Every morning she cries in the car park, in almost the exact spot where they met. She acts like some hormonal adolescent dealing with their first breakup before their names appear. Raf is not so stupid after all, and he drinks with her late into the night. Despite the pain and the ever present ache, she smiles when she talks about Bernie. Mutters the phrase "washed up mid-life lesbian" and laughs when they break apart from their near kiss. Serena decides to get back at Raf for his jab "definitely a lesbian," and he chokes on his wine when she shows him her wrist. 

The whispers become harder to ignore. Imelda shows up with her clipboard and air of condescension and Serena clenches her jaw as she glares at the empty desk across from hers. Every mention of Bernie's name is like a sucker punch to her gut and she curses her own blindness. How did she not hear it before? She shouts "Berenice Bloody Wolfe" at no one in particular and the name floats through the air, follows her home, mocks her as she scrubs before performing miraculous surgery. Life does not stop just because Bernie has left and she continues to be Serena Campbell, doctor extroidinaire. 

Her anger is exhausting but flares hot and wild when Hanssen reveals she is not even coming back. She crumbles the name she had just stroked, the name that is burned into her. Bernie's work is finished, had finished a week ago. And she is not coming back. Serena feels hopeless for the first time. The precipice rushes to meet her and panic spreads through her entire being. Life without Bernie would be unbearable. 

So she writes the bloody email. With Shiraz in her hand and Jason's words in her head, she writes to her soulmate and begs her to come back and make them whole once more. After one poignant gulp of the wine that is quickly becoming an emotional crutch, she adds a post script and hastily hits send. 

 

Subject: What next...? 

Im tired of being angry. It's time to come home. The hospital needs you. 

 

P.S.- The golden name on my wrist is yours. 


	3. Together

The explosion of the IED was nothing compared to her heart wrenching apart as she meets the pretty but angry woman on the phone in the car park. She extends her hand and says “Serena Campbell” and it takes a moment for Bernie to remember to breathe. The world tilts and changes irrevocably. But Serena seems unsurprised at her name and Bernie takes a moment to just look at the hand stretched out in greeting. _It cannot be her_ , Bernie thinks. _Surely she would have said_? She gathers herself together and takes her hand. When their skin touches she knows with devastating certainty.

Shit.

The next time she sees Serena she is grabbing coffee and Serena dashes off before Bernie can say much of anything. Then, on the bench in the darkness she asks if Serena has a family. Her heart lurches when she says “unfortunate ex-husband” and cannot help but look at her and feel hope spring up like flowers out of snow during the first thaw of winter. But Bernie has to try and “make a go of it.” This sham of a marriage she feels trapped in. When Bernie does discuss her family she says “Never been my forte I’m afraid. I have this fantasy that I’d have been Maria Von Trapp if it hadn’t been for my career.” Serena laughs at this and says “Yes, I can’t quite see you making dresses out of curtains and singing edelweiss around the fire.”

“I take that as a complement,” Bernie responds as they walk into the hospital. Later, after this hellish day is dead and gone, she remembers this moment. Serena sees right though her and knows the fantasy is not her own. The dream is Marcus’, and Bernie has always felt miscast in the role of doting mother. She cannot help but feel the ever present specter of Rachel haunting her marriage. So she asks Serena to wish her luck, downs some whiskey, and leaves him.

The next day Serena sees her wrist and Bernie feels foolish for not wearing something- _anything_ to cover it. She feels naked under Serena’s gaze and cannot help but try and separate herself from the captivating woman. Serena will not have it, and makes her laugh as they operate on the man who served her divorce papers. “Takes candy from babies,” indeed.

They get terribly drunk and Bernie does not remember a thing after they stumble into the night. Apparently she was sick in a hedge.

A few days later when Serena and Marcus walk towards her on Keller she cannot hold back and flirts with Serena in front of him. “I threatened to set you on him,” she says with a cheeky grin as she tucks her hair behind her ear. Serena gives her courage with a smile.

When Serena finds out about the affair she forgives Bernie and she feels herself growing fond of buying two cups of coffee. They arm wrestle and Bernie thanks god the name is on her left wrist and not her right. She lets Serena win just to see her smile again and the sensation of Serena’s fingers on her skin endures for days. The touch returns when her back acts up, and Serena soothes the aches and pains away with her skillful hands. For one exquisite moment, the inside of Serena’s left wrist grazes her back and Bernie’s eyes slip shut as she imagines that it is her own name that touches her. Her breath hitches with the thought and Bernie passes it off as relief as Serena massages her muscles. 

Then Arthur dies and she finds Serena in the garden after she lights up a cigarette for the first time in years. She holds Serena close as she cries and fights with all her might the urge to kiss Serena’s temple. In that moment she resigns herself to the role of friend. After all “friends” is not bad and for Bernie it is a miracle. Friendship does not come easy to her.

When they work together in theatre Bernie watches Serena’s hands and revels in the exquisite agony of their wrists so near together. She cannot understand why Serena has said nothing and the day Serena resigns from the tyranny of the boardroom Bernie decides that it must not be her name underneath the simple gold bracelet. Even though for Bernie it was always her. It was always Serena. She had been running towards Serena ever since that night in the rain with the silver stars on the walls and the ancient woman in blue.

She loves Serena.

 _There_ , she thinks to herself. _Know the feeling for what it is. And put it away._

She cannot explain it though, this mismatch of souls, and the irresistible cosmic pull towards Serena.  It is as if she is a planet, and Serena is her star, ever near but never touching. She attempts research to no avail and learns the phrase Occam’s razor. It apparently means that for every accepted explanation of a phenomenon there are an incomprehensible number of possible and more complex alternatives. It does not help alleviate her yearning though and she simply surrenders to loving Serena. Bernie uses the phrase to impress Serena and decides against further research. She does not need it really and takes to calling her Fräulein. Who knew German could be sexy?

Despite the term of endearment Serena does not love her. Nor does Alex it turns out. Oh, she had returned, but only to say her final farewells. When Alex first turned up Bernie had nearly jumped at the chance to return to the boundless and barren landscape of the desert, to have a purpose, and to return to the familiar. She knew who she was when she was a soldier. The uniform of her ancestors was now hers too and she longed to put it back on, to disappear amongst a sea of sunlight on sand. Alex was familiar too and she reached out despite knowing her soul mate was here. The habit of running dies hard.

Alex had flown all the way back to England to see Bernie. In the air and somewhere far above the clouds she had turned to the woman sitting next to her and looked into the dazzling blue eyes of Nina. The forest green on her wrist spelled out “Alex” and they held hands as they returned to the earth together. No, Alex did not love Bernie either. Bernie had given her time and space when she decided to stay at Holby. And Alex had found her soulmate. With the great sadness she also felt joy for her former lover. Alex was finally free to love and be loved out of the shadow of Bernie’s marriage. But Bernie could not help but feel left behind.

In the dead of night and on the floor of the hospital she kisses Serena. Afterwards, Bernie lies awake in her drab little flat and looks at her wrist. She tries to picture the gold “S” that so enchanted her at seventeen and cries when she cannot recall the shape. All trace of it has been gone for decades, but Bernie never thought she would forget. She remembers the woman in the shop with the wild hair and a voice that made her feel safe and realizes the woman is probably long dead. She never knew her name, only the other half of her soul, asleep above their bowed heads.

Serena does not look at her in the lift and says she was terrified. Bernie covers the pain and promises to not make theatre a “Sapphic Angst Fest.” She does not drink from the glass in the office and creates a vastness of space between the two of them. Avoiding Serena is the hardest thing she has ever done. It weighs her down. She moves slower as if she is underwater and each encounter with Serena is like a breath of life-giving air that allows her to keep moving through the depths. She dreams for weeks of the taste of Serena’s lips and the feeling of her hand in her hair.

They giggle like school children and laugh at Ric when he meets his Waterloo. It becomes too much and Bernie cannot resist, so she takes Serena to dinner. The entire meal Serena gazes and looks as if she has something of utmost importance to say. She gets drunk and Bernie looks back as the taxi pulls away from Serena’s home and whispers for the first time “I love you.”

She is cavalier about a patient’s dying wish and Serena looks forlorn across the desk. Bernie explains that her perception of death is a bit warped and Serena understands. But she needs to make her feel better so she attempts to stop death and the weary march of time itself to allow two souls to exist once more in a world Bernie and Serena will never know. Serena hints that she loves her and Alex comes storming to the front of her brain. Bernie knows that if Serena ever left her she would wither and burn away. She could survive Alex leaving, but not Serena. Serena is her soulmate. Even if Bernie is not Serena’s.

So she accepts the secondment and tells Serena it was all too much pressure. Serena looks as if she loves her and Bernie feels seventeen all over again, standing outside in the rain, looking into a shop that promises to take away a piece of her.

Serena’s eyes fill with tears. “No, no, it... it made me realize-“ and then with a whisper so desperate it makes Bernie nearly fall to her knees, “I told you I don’t want you to go.” Suddenly she’s so near and Bernie cannot take it. She grasps Serena’s elbows and gently pushes her away, the action nearly killing her and she closes her eyes against the emotional violence of the movement.

“But that’s, that’s what you don’t want. You need time and space to decide what you do want,” she says firmly. Alex had found her soul mate in the time and space Bernie had given her. If Serena ever left her she would not survive. So Bernie intends to leave before the damage can be done. She intends to set Serena free.

“It’s the same thing,” Serena protests.

“No, it’s not,” Bernie disagrees. “I-I know I don’t want to hurt you because I,” she pauses and instead of “love” says “care about you.” The omission is too much and the word _coward_ rings in her head and the echo of it is roaring and she has to leave. Has to _get out now._ She runs out the office.

“Bernie, no please, please don’t do this.”

“-Serena.”

“I could come and see you!”

“No”, Bernie says quickly.

 “We could meet halfway!” Serena begs.

“Stop, please! I’m Sorry,” Bernie says with a fierceness she does not feel and leaves the best of herself behind her when the doors slip closed. Serena’s face haunts her for weeks.

She goes to Ukraine and does what she did before. She lives a half-life, missing her children and the phantom woman that called her brave even though she ran. The work is good and Bernie immerses herself in the physical labor, the grinding work of building something worthwhile. The language barrier is almost welcome and Bernie rarely speaks to her colleagues beyond the realm of procedure and trauma. She walks the streets of Kyiv at night and the moon is her constant companion. She drinks her weight in vodka and becomes a phantom herself.

The trauma unit is going to be a triumph and she is proud of the work she is doing. But it will not be her trauma unit and she knows that this place was not built for her. Serena had carved out a place in Holby for her, her own pile of bricks and mortar. Their names side by side on the office door. Serena made her a home and offered her love but Bernie could not bear the thought of keeping Serena from her true other self. She could never stand between Serena and happiness. So when she is offered a permanent position she takes it and decides to stay. Bernie finds that Kyiv is its own kind of desert.  A week later she receives an email from Serena. The subject line taunts her and reads “What next…?

She does not open it and closes the tab.


	4. At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Mel, who was kind when I most needed it. And for all those who feel alone and scared right now. I am proud of you, I am with you, and I love you.

Serena has taken to walking in the morning. There is a park near her home with winding paths that disappear quickly into lovely, isolated fields. She walks there in the early hours of her days off, sometimes long before the sun comes up. Insomnia has crept in, and sleep is elusive. Dreams of Bernie haunt her, and sometimes sleep is no escape at all. One field in particular is Serena’s favorite. She has taken Jason there a couple of times since he was curious as to what she got up to on these mysterious jaunts. The pines that line the fields are old and tower above Serena, making her feel small. And the grass is gentle and tall and waves in the breeze, imitating a sea on land. It feels like another world.

Serena remembers when she used to stand in her kitchen reveling in the rare stillness and whisper Bernie’s name. That was all before she knew her. And now she whispers the name in the fields, like a prayer calling out to the cosmos _My love, come back to me_. At least here there is no one to see her tears, no passersby like in the car park.

Two days ago Serena had received a rather impersonal email detailing Bernie’s travel plans back to Holby. Apparently, Bernie had never opened her email until she had received a text from Serena saying “I MISS YOU.” Of course it had been Jason who had sent it. But any frustration she had with the situation quickly evaporated when she realized Jason had known exactly what Serena had been trying to say all along.

Another email had followed stating that Bernie wished to meet for coffee. Today.

In two hours.

Serena had sent a quick reply before she could even process what was happening. She was going to see Bernie in a few hours in a café they had been to before, a small one around the corner. It frightened her. Bernie’s face as she had literally run out of her life had followed Serena. And she was frightened of what Bernie wanted to say. Last night Serena had clutched her wrist and woken with a start in the darkness. She had scrambled to turn the light on to see the writing, just to make sure it all had not been a dream. She nearly cried with relief as she saw the writing still there; solid and golden and real.

 Serena was shaken by the dreams so she had risen, dressed, and walked out her door after leaving Jason a note on the kitchen table. Serena would let the crisp morning air wake her and soothe her and chase the nightmares away. Because the walks did soothe her. Exercise was not really her bag but it had helped in the wake of Bernie turning her life upside down. Jason had even started reading up on the benefits of exercise. He had hinted at buying her one of those tracking watch things for Christmas so they can gauge how far she walks each day. Jason wanted to use the distance and map it across Europe, seeing how far she could get. Yesterday he said she had probably walked all the way to Ukraine by now.  

She shakes her head and attempts to be present, in the moment. First light is about to arrive and the field is all deep blue, and with the dawn the trees and the grass turn grey as roseate pink begins to creep across the sky. Fog skirts the bottom of the colossal and ancient trees that bear witness to the coming together of souls. For as the birds begin to sing their song of morning, Serena turns and sees Bernie walking across the field, coming to greet her with the sunrise.

Bernie moves slowly but steadily across the field, her eyes ever fixed on Serena. She sees the sorrow of Ukraine fall off of her, and Bernie walks as if she is flying. Serena remains still and does not move nor speak until Bernie is but a few meters away. Her heart is soaring and greets Bernie with a silent shout _Here she comes at last._   Her soulmate lost had been returned, like a ship sailing in to its destined port after a storm.

“Jason said you would be here,” Bernie explains. Her first words after an age of radio silence.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Serena says quietly.

“Nor I, not for weeks” Bernie confesses with a small smile that grows when Serena smiles back. The calmness of the new day settles, and the birds sing.

Bernie’s smile fades as she whispers suddenly “I left you.” Her eyes fill with tears as Serena nods and looks away to the ground. “How can I ever make amends for such cowardice?” she asks with hushed urgency and swallows nervously. She steps forward and breaths in the morning air. She finds the courage to be vulnerable and says “I left because I was afraid.”

Serena looks up and furrows her brow. “You’re afraid of me?” she rasps disbelievingly and hurt radiates from her.

“No, Serena- I.”

Bernie breaths in and out, creating small clouds between the two figures. She starts again. “I was afraid you would not choose me if you ever met your soulmate. That you would leave me.” Bernie’s tears are falling freely and she lets them. She is through hiding herself from Serena. “And I could not bear even the thought,” she whispers as her voice breaks.

Serena steps closer at the sound but stops until they are almost near enough to reach out and touch.

“But then your email gave me hope,” Bernie continues, and she cannot help but laugh through the tears and smile once more. “Serena, your email…I.” She pauses and looks to the ground and sees the crystal dew on the grass.

“I never thought I would be worthy of you. That I was your soulmate.” She shuts her eyes against the distant memories and says “I had your name in gold on my wrist for only a few hours. I had it covered.” Her arms are still at her sides and she makes no move to show her wrist. Serena has seen it already and Bernie shudders as she murmurs “It seems I have been afraid for most of my life.”

“And now?” Serena asks desperately, as if ravenous for the sound of Bernie’s voice. Bernie looks up at her again.

“And now I am begging you to choose me, _love_ me,” Bernie utters desperately.  “I would have loved you even if I truly was a nameless one.” Serena’s breath catches at this and she steps ever closer until she can feel Bernie’s breath on her face.

The sun rises and weaves glowing halos around their bowed heads, and Bernie says earnestly “I love you. And I know I always will. All my life long.” She closes her eyes once more and feels the warmth creep in as the day begins around them. Serena watches her and makes her choice. In that moment Serena thinks Bernie is magnificent and she reaches down to take Bernie’s left hand. She brings the palm to her and pushes back the sleeve of the white coat. Bernie opens her eyes and sees her soulmate looking back.

“Well then,” Serena murmurs with a radiant gaze before leaning down and kissing the inside of the offered wrist with fervent reverence. Their mutual supplication is sealed with Serena’s lips on her own name. She kisses Bernie’s palm and then slowly turns the hand over to softly graze her knuckles. Her other hand comes up to cup Bernie’s fingers between her own. “Your hands are cold,” she whispers.

The ardent intimacy of it all brings Bernie ever nearer and their foreheads rest against one another for an infinite moment in time. When they break apart their hands remain linked, and Bernie asks “Let me walk the rest of the way with you?”

Serena bewitches Bernie once more and answers “Always, and all my life long.” The echo of her own words makes Bernie shine and they walk home hand in hand.

The Sun climbs high above their heads and over the trees and bids farewell to her lover Moon until they meet again at twilight. The silver brilliance of the moonbeams fades away with the sunlight. The sky turns red as the sun paints the world with fire and the pines are ablaze. Dawn unfurls its most glorious golden light and it races across the world so that night may softly retreat to sleep. The two women in the field are in love, and they move through the perpetual sunrise of the world eternally cloaked and entwined in the gold.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a rip off of the final scene in pride and prejudice. Literally the most romantic thing I've ever seen.


	5. The Golden Name Once More On My Wrist

Three years later. 

 

London at Christmas time is magical. Bernie retraces her steps, walks slowly, and gets caught up in the current of children and parents on the pavement. Oxford Street is mad. The trees lining the road are decorated with fairy lights, rendering them shining beacons in the afternoon, their bare bones glowing in the sunlight. Streetlamps are adorned with holly and ivy, delicately wrapped and ascending the poles in a swirl.

Children rush about from window to window, squealing in wonder at the displays. They grab their parents’ hands and drag them over to the windows with little villages from an era long gone. Miniature houses with candles in the windows and carolers ever poised to sing just outside by the small, painted pond. The children are enchanted, and their mittens dangle, hats pulled down over tiny ears, and their noses turn red from the cold.

Their Christmas lists, painstakingly written and rewritten, are tucked away in coat pockets. Never mind the coco stain. Songs from inside each store meander out into the street, phrases and verses intermingling in the air. “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas” follows Bernie for a few steps before she hears Bing Crosby crooning “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.” His voice follows her for nearly a block.

Normally Bernie does not like shopping, does not _do London._ But it was her day off and she was desperate to finish her Christmas list. She had arrived in town this morning, had taken the car and shopped and was now having a light lunch in a café. She looks down at her phone pinging softly next to her coffee. Bernie smiles at the notification, seeing the plethora of emoji’s Serena has opted to use to illustrate her point. Apparently it was very boring at home without her.

She munches on the lingering chips on her plate and hastily replies. She crosses her legs, dislodging the various shopping bags at her feet and texts about her lunch and when she thinks she will be home. Serena has a cold and was therefore unable to join her, although Bernie knows the trip would have lasted days rather than an afternoon if Serena had managed to accompany her. The woman loves to shop.

But Bernie likes the efficiency of Christmas shopping. The clear-cut and satisfying crossing off of items as her pen steadily makes its way down the paper. And now she had finished, the last item for Jason having been purchased prior to lunch. Serena’s presents had been purchased months ago, fancy bottles of wine, expensive and delicate earrings, and a ticket for a weekend away for just the two of them.

Bernie was quite pleased with her trinkets, having bought some things for Morven and Cameron, Charlotte and Elinor. Her family seemed to grow every year, and so did her list. But it was all finished and Bernie leans back, sighing in satisfaction as she sips her coffee and watches the world go by outside the café window. The hustle and bustle is somehow soothing, the clamoring and constant noise of the city. Bernie simply sits in peace for a little while.

She knows why she chose to come to London rather than shop in the perfectly good shops around Holby City. It was the thought in the back of her head, nagging her for months, perhaps almost a year. She had pushed it aside, over and over, returning to the surgery at hand, or the meal she was cooking with Jason, or whatever she happened to be doing at the time. But the thought follows her, lingers in the afternoon with her at the café. She knows why she came to London.

When she gathers the courage necessary she stands, gathers her shopping bags, and returns to her car. She fills up the meter, paying for a few more hours, and places the treasures in the passenger seat. Bernie closes the door soundly and turns to walk slowly away from the highstreets. She smiles at the children with their faces pressed up against the windows, wanders down the lane, and turns to the quieter streets.

The music grows softer as she walks further away from the center of town, retracing her steps, hands shoved into the pockets of her pink coat. She wanders for a bit, getting lost in the side streets, the winding alleys and the stone edifices of the buildings. After a while, Bernie thinks perhaps she made a wrong turn, but she turns a corner and suddenly, there it is. The pink neon sign is still there, flickering in the afternoon sun. It still declares “Tattoos Inside!”

She stands across the road, looking at the storefront. It seems much smaller in the daylight.

Bernie shakes her head and walks across the way, confidently pushing the door open. The store only has one occupant, a young woman with green streaks in her black hair and a ruby stud in her nose. Her dark skin is adorned with a large tattoo on her left bicep. Bernie sees that the tattoo is of a dying rose, the petals gently flowing down her arm, coming to rest on the back of her hand.

“Can I help you?” she asks with a cheerful voice.

“Um…”

Bernie suddenly feels nervous. She had been planning this for nearly a year but had never gone into the details of the experience. She clears her throat and starts again.

“Yes,” she states confidently. She drags up her sleeve and marches over and bares her wrist. “I want you to remove the tattoo over my soulmate’s name.”

The young woman with the green and black hair seems unsurprised and says “Just a mo” before disappearing behind the current.

Bernie is overcome for a moment when left in solitude. She slowly sits in a chair nearby, sinking down and clutching her wrist. She takes the opportunity to look anywhere else and takes in the room. The moon lamp is still hanging from the ceiling, casting a silver light across the wooden floorboards. Bernie looks on the walls and sees the stars are gone and that most of the artwork has changed. It all seems to long ago in her mind, but this place is nearly untouched by time. Here, magic endures in the air, like spices in the marketplace.

A gentle ping interrupts Bernie’s thoughts and she takes off her coat and pulls out her cell phone. She wraps the coat around the back of the chair and hangs her purse over it before sitting back down. She swipes the screen and reads Serena’s text messages. Apparently she is still feeling poorly and will most likely be asleep by the time Bernie returns. Another text message follows saying she is in bed with pussy. A picture of Gregory, their grumpy cat is attached to the message. In the photo, Gregory is surrounded by Serena’s crumpled tissues and curled up in Bernie’s spot in their bed, as if protesting her absence. Bernie texts back the heart emoji, knowing Serena is most likely already asleep and dreaming.

She looks up as the young woman comes back, contraption in hand and a kind smile.

“Alright, which wrist is it?” She settles down next to Bernie and inspects her left wrist after she extends it onto the table. The young woman introduces herself as Harriet, and gently takes Bernie’s hand, looking at the skin and assessing her wrist.

“When did you have it covered?” She inquires in a soft voice and Bernie feels herself replying quietly.

“When I was seventeen,” she confesses. The store is hushed, the street nearly silent. The roar of Christmas shopping is far away and Bernie feels as if she is in another world, tucked away and secret. She breaths in and out slowly, calming herself with each breath.

“Right,” Harriet murmurs. “The laser will sting, but it should detect and remove the ink just fine.”

Bernie sighs with relief and cannot help but smile back at Harriet. “Good,” she replies simply.

Harriet works silently, slowly moving the small contraption over Bernie’s skin. It is slow work, and it does sting, but Bernie is no stranger to pain. She grimaces and bears it, watching the entire thing, enthralled by the slow unveiling of gold.

Bernie reminds herself why she came to London. It was to come here, to retrace her steps, to give this to herself for Christmas. It will be her own Christmas miracle.

Bernie is forgiving herself.

 Serena is her partner in all things, her co-lead on AAU, her lover, her co-parent. And one day they will be grandmothers. Bernie smiles at the thought. Their lives are intertwined and filled with fights and kisses, lazy mornings, and early fog-filled drives to work. Serena would never ask her to remove the tattoo. But the thought had bothered Bernie for nearly a year. Why keep it there? Everyone knows about her and Serena, and they’re almost famous, the two soulmates who run AAU.

So she came back. Bernie walked the same road and followed her memory of a dark night when she was young and afraid and found herself here once more.

She watches the S appear and nearly cries.

As the first E and the R come back she remembers all the dreams she had, of her wrist shining in candlelight and Serena finally tracing her own name on Bernie’s body. Bernie forgives herself as the second E comes back. She forgives herself for the years of unhappiness, for not knowing herself, for not allowing herself to be known. She forgives herself for being afraid. _I forgive myself._

Bernie knows she had been complete all her life, that Serena does not complete her. They are soulmates and they love each other, but Bernie is her own person. Love is a choice, and they choose each other every day. They are stronger together, understanding permeating every facet of their relationship, kindness and patience and love. They are so very lucky to have found one another, after all that time.

When the N comes forth Bernie says to herself _I am worthy of this happiness._  

And when the A is once again shining in the synthetic moonlight, Bernie thinks _I will be okay._

She sits back in the chair, the skin slightly red and still stinging and traces Serena’s name for the first time. The hook at the end of the A enchants her, and she finds herself missing Serena, even though she kissed her goodbye this morning. Her finger glides over the elegant script and Bernie sighs.

_I reclaim myself._

This is her gift to herself, to feel whole once more. Her body is restored and her spirit lighter, her heart full and her mind clear. She looks up at Harriet and grins. She murmurs her thanks, hastily pays her with cash, and spins to walk out the door. When her hand hits the round door knob Harriet calls out “Wait!”

Bernie spins and furrows her brow in confusion. She looks back and sees a mixture of hope and fear in Harriet’s face. She asks “Yes?”

Harriet glances away quickly before looking back up at Bernie. She clears her throat and whispers. “Did… did you ever find her?”

Bernie glances down at Harriet’s wrist and sees a name in silver beneath the rose petals. It spells out Fatimah in graceful Arabic letters.

Bernie smiles. “She’s at home sleeping.”

Harriet smiles back and Bernie turns and walks back out into the world, the bell above the door jingling softly in her wake. Bernie smiles all the way home.

When she arrives, the house is quiet and covered in darkness. She tip toes up the stairs, avoiding the one that creaks and quickly ducks into the bedroom. Serena is drowning in pillows and the duvet is pulled up to her chin. The bed is peppered with used, shriveled tissues and Gregory looks up at Bernie with a disapproving glare. She smiles as Serena snores, the usually soft noise exacerbated by her stuffy nose. Bernie quickly changes into her pajamas, brushes her teeth and slips into bed beside Serena. She gathers the tissues and places them in the bin by the bedside table and turns to look at her sleeping soulmate.

She props herself up on her elbow and looks down at her, marveling at how even when she is sick Serena is still adorable. Gregory purrs, burrows his head into Bernie’s side and she chuckles, gently petting his head. Bernie then settles into the bed, sits back against the headboard and brings her wrist up. She traces the name again, fascinated once more by the shapes, the letters come back from the past. The golden hue glimmers in the lamplight and Bernie’s chest is bursting. She cannot bring herself to wake Serena, and she decides to tell her in the morning.

Bernie reaches over and turns out the light.

…

In the morning Bernie rises before Serena and heads into the bathroom, drinking some water and washing her face. Bernie is brushing her teeth and feels Serena wrap her arms around her before resting her cheek against Bernie’s back. Bernie smiles and mumbles “Good morning” through the toothpaste.

“I missed you,” Serena mutters back. She kisses Bernie’s neck and moves to walk back out into the bedroom before she catches the glint of gold on Bernie. She goes still and Bernie slowly reaches up, turning her wrist over so that Serena can see. This was not how she intended to tell her and she stops brushing her teeth, her toothbrush falling to rest by her hip as she drops her right hand.

Serena cradles her left wrist and ever so slowly reaches out to caress the letters there. She goes over the name once, then twice, consumed by the minute details, the gentle swooping, the slant of the N. On the third pass she begins to shake and looks up at Bernie, her index finer resting on the R.

“I’m so proud of you Bernie.”

Serena is crying and Bernie moves forward to kiss her, toothpaste and all. She kisses her slowly, ravenous for the taste of Serena’s lips, the visceral connection she feels whenever they are near. She pulls back gently and Serena follows, resting her forehead against Bernie’s. Serena takes her hand after a moment, leads her back to the bed. They sit side by side on the end, Serena cradling her wrist.

“Tell me,” she whispers. “Tell me everything.”

And Bernie does. She tells her of her doubts, her reasons, about the lights in the trees and the small frozen pond in the window of Selfridges. She describes the flicker of the sign and the beauty of Harriet’s green hair. She unravels the day and Serena gathers it together, all the while holding her hand. Bernie tells her everything, how she did it for herself, the fifty five year old in the fading afternoon light and the seventeen year old Bernie in the thunderstorm.

The day begins outside and Bernie cries tears of joy. They marvel at each other, their love and their best friend. Serena traces and retraces the letters, kissing her name again and again. Whispering softly into Bernie’s ear “I’m so proud, I love you, I love you.”

Their skin shimmers in the morning light and Bernie thinks _perhaps this is heaven, here in my bed._

  _And the golden name once more on my wrist._

 

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Anon.


End file.
